


Look, Up In The Stars

by Turn_of_the_Sonic_Screw



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (1963), Doctor Who (2005), Doctor Who (Big Finish Audio)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, F/F, F/M, Gen, Implied Sexual Content, Major Character Injury, Multi, Multiverse, Temporary Amnesia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-19
Updated: 2018-04-29
Packaged: 2019-04-04 14:38:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14022423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Turn_of_the_Sonic_Screw/pseuds/Turn_of_the_Sonic_Screw
Summary: In which the Doctors and their Companions are crime-fighting, dimension-hopping superheroes...if only the Twelfth Doctor could remember this, or the tiny brunette claiming to be his lover.beta by imaginary_golux and infinite_regress.Tags to update with chapters.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> All of the Doctors will feature in this with various relationships, but the main focus will be on Twelve/Clara, and to a lesser extent Bill/Heather. Sorry to disappoint--maybe there will be side stories branching out from this at a later date, depending on inspiration.

John Smith blinks. He recognizes that he’s naked, lying on a bed, and coming down off an orgasm. The last, he assumes, is courtesy of the miniscule brunette tucked between his thighs, her immense eyes trained on his. She gulps and grins. “Well? Good?”

“Erm, yes.” He presses one palm to his flushed face. “Ahem. I don’t actually remember who you are. Does this happen often?”

The girl--for she is perhaps half his age--sighs. “Not usually during sex or combat. So this is a little frustrating.” She gets up, fetches them matching tartan bathrobes. “On the other hand, I literally just blew your mind. So that’s cool.” She forces a grin. “Why don’t we get cleaned up and I’ll explain over tea.”

One cuppa and eight sugar cubes later...

“Righto, I’m Clara Oswald. We met when I was leading a field trip to your lab. I’m your friend, part-time lab assistant, crime-fighting companion, and sometime lover.”

His eyebrows knit. “Except for that last bit, that sounds like Bill.” He looks around the cafeteria suspiciously. “Where is she? Have you hurt her?”

“ _Bill_ is fine. She and Heather are--” A mostly silver swirl plummets from an upper balcony with a splash. It resolves into what looks suspiciously like the finalists of a wet T-shirt contest who have decided to settle the dispute with a match of tonsil hockey. “--busy.” Clara concludes lamely.

“Bill! There you are!” the Doctor calls.

His star pupil’s eyes are on Clara, however. “Again?” The older girl confirms Bill’s guess with a nod. “Sorry.” She and Heather join them, slowly drying.

“Like I was saying, you’re John Smith, alias the Doctor. You’re a gifted physicist, specializing in research on time travel and parallel universes, operating out of TARDIS Labs, this building.”

“Every version of you seems to use the same names,” Heather continues, “God help us. Sometimes you’re backed by UNIT, sometimes the British government or St. Luke’s University. Sometimes you have independent backers. One version of you is from some kind of apocalyptic war.” She shudders. “He...doesn’t talk about it much.”

“Anyway, one of your experiments went either really right or awesomely wrong. Can’t say I fully understand it myself.” Bill grins; he senses she can’t help it. “You punched a rip in reality. Still there, by the way. We haven’t figured out how to close it even though the rift is centered here. So shit still leaks through. From other universes. From the Void.”

Clara picks up the thread. “So now you fight crime and alien invasions with the help of your scientific knowledge, fancy gizmos, best friends, and--”

“Sexy!” the Doctor interrupts. “Come on, Kasterborous City needs our help!”

Clara facepalms. “Of course he remembers the flirty AI in his head that feeds him new adventures.” Bill mouths _I’m so sorry_ at her. “There are notecards in your jacket pocket with more information. You read, I’ll drive.”

“I’ll drive,” Bill corrects her. “Unless you’re stopping a bank robbery in nothing but a robe. Cute, but impractical,” she concludes approvingly. Heather is already in costume--one of the benefits of being a shapeshifter: skintight silver with a black star on her face. “I am the Pilot, after all.”

“I am sorry,” the Doctor says, once they are back in their (their?!) bedroom. He picks a plain white shirt, black cardigan, boots, and slacks; the scarlet lining on the black coat is the only spot of color.

“I know.” She stops dressing and smooths his lapels with her hands. “It’s just...never mind.” Over a simple black close-fitting top and tights she layers a dark-purple minidress, then mustard yellow gloves, boots, and mask. An infinity symbol of the same yellow marks her chest.

“What’s that for?” he asks, tapping the sigil. Her breath hitches, whether from the intimate contact or something else he isn’t sure.

“Impossible Girl. I’ll explain later. Don’t forget your mask.” 

He adjusts the simple black mask in the mirror. “Do the eyebrows have any special powers? They seem ready to attack.”

“Nope. Sorry. Come on, Bill and Heather--or, should I say, the Pilot and Stargirl--should have the ship--also and unhelpfully named the TARDIS--ready by now.”

He follows her (this, at least, is starting to ring a few bells) onto the TARDIS. Bill, he remembers, has the ability to drive, fly, or otherwise control any vehicle perfectly without practice, so she is standing at the helm. “First Kasterborous Savings and Loan, here we come.” With an abrupt wheezing, the ship, an incongruous blue box, flickers out and back into reality. The Doctor instinctively reaches for his sonic screwdriver. “Go on then. I’ll just wait here in the Batmobile.”

He peeps into the front window. Four toughs with automatic weapons, five terrified customers, two unconscious guards, and three tellers frantically heaping money into sacks. Should be child’s play for the three of them.

“Can you disable their guns?” Clara whispers. 

“One, maybe, before they start shooting. Too spread out.”

“I can sneak around and grab the one in the back,” Heather offers.

“And I can take care of the closest one. Especially if you distract them.”

“I can handle that,” the Doctor says, and strides into the bank. “Hello! I heard there was a costume party, and you pudding brains forgot to send me a card so I invited myself.” He grins from ear to ear and points at his face. “Brought my mask. Forgot to RSVP, though. I should really get better at that.”

The erstwhile robbers stare at each other, slack-jawed, until one of them shouts. “Get on the floor, motherfucker! Get on the goddamn floor.”

“Really, there’s no need to use foul language! What would your mother say?” He tuts at them just before they open fire. He dives behind a counter, a pulse from his screwdriver silencing one of the four guns. He spots a glint of quicksilver out of the corner of his eye. The thug screams and shifts his aim to Heather but the bullets pass harmlessly through her liquid form and she hits him like a ton of bricks.

Meanwhile, four identical Impossible Girls gang-tackle the only female robber, the one nearest the front door, and quickly overwhelm her. That makes it two down and out.

“Look out,” Heather yells to her. The Doctor can see in the reflection from one of front windows that the last remaining armed robber is aiming at the four Claras. Unfortunately he doesn’t have a clear line of sight, so he does the next best thing and blows out the lights. The startled cretin’s shots follow his eyes to the ceiling in surprise, and Heather kicks the weapon away. He and Clara close with the fourth robber, fortunately gun-free but still a hefty combatant.

“Give it up, old man,” the thug jeers.

“I’m stronger than I look,” the Doctor counters.

“Stupider, too,” the tough jibes. “And I’d really hate for something to happen to your pretty friend.”

“For fuck’s sake,” Clara groans. “This is why I wear a mask. And yet I still get inundated with cheap lines about my looks.”

“Inun-what?” asks the crook, evidently curious. The Doctor lunges in during the moment of bafflement and lands a pretty left hook to the man’s jaw, dropping him like a sack of ill-tempered bricks.

“Justice is done,” he proclaims. “Now let’s get out of this clod’s presence. I feel myself getting stupider by osmosis.” 

Bill pulls Heather into a hug once they rejoin her in the TARDIS. “You know I’m basically an invulnerable shapeshifting puddle, right?”

“Shut it,” Bill tells her fondly. “Home okay for everyone?” She brings the little blue box to a stop back inside TARDIS Labs.

Clara watches the Doctor leave, knowing she will have to win his heart once again, at least until his memories return. “Stopping a bank robbery. Stopping a whole bank robbery. Beat that for a date.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Running list of characters, codenames (if any), and superpowers:
> 
> John Smith - the Doctor - innate intelligence, technology  
> Clara Oswald - the Impossible Girl - can divide into many copies  
> Bill Potts - the Pilot - can control any vehicle instinctively  
> Heather - Stargirl - shapeshifter, especially into a silver blob


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we meet some of the other Doctors and their Companions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter cuts back and forth between Clara and the Twelfth Doctor having a conversation and the other Doctors having adventures.

Once back at the labs, John and Clara settle in for what he expects to be a thoroughly awkward chat.

“So. We save the city from certain doom in our spare time?”

“Some of your spare time. Some of you mostly play cricket.” She eyes another version of John, looking for all the world like he’s about to lead his three sidekicks out on the summer picnic of their discontent.

“Cheerio!” the Fifth Doctor waves to John and Clara as he leaves.

***

No sooner does the TARDIS land but the motley collection of droids abandons their butchery. “Superior specimens detected,” drones their leader.

“Rabbits! There must be hundreds of them,” Tegan groans.

“At least we don’t have to worry about survivors.” The lean ginger man begins drawing up the flames from some nearby debris into fireballs. He can control flames, expand or banish them, but not create them. 

“Turlough! How ghastly.” Nyssa chides him as her telekinesis knocks several away.

“And the fact that they use human remains means that there’s something that burns readily,” he continues, demonstrating the truth of his assertion.

“That’s really quite enough,” Tegan manages through gritted teeth, the tattoo on her arm already beginning to glow with her anger and her disgust.

“You know he only does it so you’ll unleash the Mara faster,” the Doctor observes.

“Doesn’t mean I can’t hate him anyway,” Tegan retorts, already changing into her dragon form. 

The battle continues in blessed silence for several long, tiring minutes. “Ah.” The Doctor begins, crestfallen. “It appears the clockwork droids have an unforeseen repair mechanism. Between that fact and their rather large numbers, I dare say things don’t look good.”

***

John looks skeptically at Clara. “You mean to tell me there are thirteen different versions of me from thirteen different dimensions. Seems superfluous, frankly. And they all fight crime together?”

“Yup,” she nods. “Mind you, there’s an awful lot of crime to fight. Including some other scientists who have gone rogue. Others who have meddled with the fabric of time.”

***

“Rassilon,” the Ninth Doctor manages through gritted teeth. “I should have guessed.”

“It is a rather impressive robot, isn’t it?” the madman cackles. “Impervious to your sonic technology, you’ll find,” he adds, as Jack’s sonic blaster fires and ricochets off of its armor. 

“Not impervious to me,” says the Bad Wolf, her voice starting to reverberate. 

“Rose! Be careful,” the Doctor cautions her as she starts unspooling reality around them. 

“Hey, look at me,” Jack yells, firing ineffectually as he tries to draw the robot’s focus away from Rose. “Awfully handsome, aren’t I?” Even his preternatural charm has no effect on the robot.

“Not the time!” the Doctor hollers back instinctively.

“Oh, it’s time,” Rose says, and the robot winks out of existence. Then she collapses; being the Bad Wolf is exhausting. Reality doesn’t warp easily, which is why she prefers to rely on her acrobatic training.

“Oh, good,” Rassilon beams. “Now she won’t be able to stop me from bringing time to a standstill.” Jack and the Doctor exchanged a worried look.

***

“And what about the people who work with me?”

“Your companions, as the media has it?” Clara teases. “They’re a mixed bag. Most of us are like me and Bill, your lab assistants. Some of them just get caught up in an experiment. Some of them are fellow scientists. Some are military representatives. Some are reporters. Many of them,” she hesitates, “are your lovers.”

“That definitely sounds complicated.”

“You wouldn’t know what to do without us.” That, at least, he thinks is true.

***

“Working again, Old Girl?” the Third Doctor asks. Liz glares at him even though she knows he’s talking to the voice in his head. “Cybermen on the march? And...something else? No…” His eyes regain focus. “Alistair? Dr. Shaw? Ms. Smith?”

“You just say the word, Doctor,” says the Brigadier. “UNIT stands ready to assist.” The soldier was a crack shot and natural leader--all natural, no special enhancements.

“Just the four of us today, Brigadier. I find your men tend to have a rough touch.”

Twenty minutes later...

“I think we could stand a bit of a rough touch, Doctor,” Liz shouts. “I don’t think being able to become invisible and fly,” she lists her powers, “is going help much against a platoon of Cybermen.” 

“No luck on reinforcements,” the Brigadier informs them. “Radio jamming. Tricky bastards, Cybermen.”

“If only we could get clear… What do you think? A tear, Sarah Jane?”

The erstwhile reporter shakes her head. “I can only rip through reality to teleport us to places I have a clear line of sight to. Unfortunately, they’ve got so much smoke kicked up, I can’t see a blasted thing.”

“I can pick them off one by one as they move into range,” the Brigadier says.

“For god’s sake, don’t give away our position!” the Doctor shakes his head at his dear trigger-happy friend. “If they rush us, we’re done for. Liz can hide us from their visual scanners and I can jam their other senses. We’ll just have to hold until we can make a run for it or until help arrives.”

***

“Other than the dubious fashion sense, how do you tell us apart? That must get rather confusing even for the more intelligent among us.”

“It helps that you’re more or less numbered in the order that you manifested from the main rift in the center of TARDIS labs.” 

“More or less?”

***

The War Doctor hums a hymn quietly as he operates his TARDIS. “It’s true what they say about there not being any atheists in foxholes, then?”

“I suppose it is.” He smiles, pleased at the AI’s progress with idiom. “Sexy’s found something else for us. Interested?”

“Hungry like a wolf,” the Moment says with a grin.

He flips a switch and the TARDIS rematerializes. 

“There’s a temporal disturbance nearby.” 

“Eyes open, then.” A flicker of grey at the corner of his eye. “Weeping Angel?”

“Three.” A hint of worry creeps into the AI’s voice.

He lets his eyes sag in a split second of despair. “If all else fails, we must lead them away from the TARDIS.”

“Agreed.” They move, back to back with practiced ease; the Weeping Angels seem oddly willing to comply. “I should be able to trap them in containment fields.”

“All three?” They are her stock-in-trade but even the hardlight AI has her limits.

“Hopefully long enough for us to generate a paradox and burn them out.”

“It’s been an honor to fight beside you.”

She pauses, processing this. “Agreed.”

***

John snorts. “I feel for the poor bastard who has to go by One.”

“Prime, usually.”

“What is this, a Michael Bay movie?”

“Hey, I was raised on those cartoons!” Clara laughs, breaking her mock outrage. “And an awful lot of books.”

“I suppose you have to have your merriment where you can find it,” John allows. “It seems like we’re rather busy here.”

***

The First Doctor--the definite article, one might say--is the next to receive the call. “Doctor! And the Unearthly Child! Thank goodness you’ve arrived!” The police captain breathes a sigh of relief.

“What appears to be the problem, hmm? You seem to have the matter well in hand.”

“That’s just the thing, sir. There _was_ a hostage situation.” The captain gestures to the huddled group of civilians. “Now there’s just hostages. Except some of them are Zygons.” She sighs. “We were hoping you could figure things out.”

“Hmm. A most delightful puzzle, Captain...Kingdom, is it?” He confirms, squinting at the woman’s badge.

“Just let us talk to them,” Susan says confidently. The talking isn’t, strictly speaking, necessary, but she prefers to keep her telepathy and telekinesis known as to as few as possible. 

“Are you up to the task, my child?”

“The differences between a shapeshifted Zygon mind and a human mind are subtle, but we should be at least be able to split up the two groups.”

“Then I shall try to catch our erstwhile hostage-takers in a slip of the poison-sacked tongue.” He chuckles at the thought. “Come, my dear.”

Unfortunately, an hour of one-on-one conversations yields them no closer to the truth. “They all feel the _same_ , Grandfather! I can’t tell the difference!”

***

“You like to read, then?” John ventures. Clara nods hopefully. “Anything you like particularly?”

Her eyes betray her as a gangling man in tweed gallops up. “Clara! There you are! Care to join us? It’s the Rani causing mischief again.”

“Sorry; maybe next time?” She waves at him goodbye. He clatters off, followed by a ginger in blue spandex and a Roman legionnaire.

“Friend of yours?” She winces at the acid in his voice.

***

“Is it just me, or is it a little chilly?” Rory asks. “Even by my standards, and I’ve spent a lot of time in secret hideouts under the Thames.”

“It’s cold even by my standards and I’m from Scotland,” Amy concedes.

“It’s cold by my standards and I’ve fought aliens made of sentient snow,” the Eleventh Doctor grumbles.

“Show-off,” Rory mutters.

“Boys.” Both the Doctor and the Centurion straighten up at her voice. “And that’s why I’m in charge.” She exhales, breath steaming. “Seriously, Doctor, your next mission is making me a warmer costume. I know it needs to stretch with me, but right now my nipples are the only thing changing length.” Both men furtively look at, then away from her chest. God, she thinks, they’re so easy to tease. My beautiful boys.

“And I think it’s getting colder! Which probably means we’re getting warmer!” The Doctor scans the temperature gradients with his sonic screwdriver.

“He’s really too young to be making dad jokes,” Rory grouses as “Come along, Ponds!” echoes behind the Doctor.

“Looks like you were right,” Amy whispers as they get closer. “So, just dive in without a plan?”

“Seems to work,” the Doctor agrees. “Rani! Good to see you again!”

“And you, my dear Doctor. Legs, Centurion.” She bobs her head at the trio. “I was hoping it would be you. And just in time to test my cryo-ray.”

“Rory!” Amy cries, and extends herself instinctively, pushing her husband out of the way as a blue bolt lances towards him. “Ah! What did you do to me?” She looks down with horror at her elongated torso, unable to retract.

“Just as I hypothesized! Cold destroys your elastic properties, leaving you helplessly distended.” The scientist grins. “I knew you would protect the Centurion, too.” 

“He’s going to gut you,” Amy snarls. 

“No, he won’t. Ogrons! Seize her!” Two enormous, ugly humanoids lumber into the room, bypassing the others to take Amy by the arms and legs.

“Unhand her!” Rory yells, swinging his sword. He wounds the Ogron, but the Rani blasts him with her cryo-ray, leaving him mostly encased in ice. Unharmed--he’s particularly strong and durable--but unable to move.

The ray fizzles and sparks. “This would be your doing, Doctor?” 

“Thought I’d level the playing field,” he says, beaming and twirling his sonic screwdriver.

“Think I’ll level you,” and on the Rani’s order, an Ogron’s fist connects with the crown of the Doctor’s head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Running list of characters, codenames (if any), and superpowers:
> 
> John Smith - the Doctor - innate intelligence, technology  
> Clara Oswald - the Impossible Girl - can divide into many copies  
> Bill Potts - the Pilot - can control any vehicle instinctively  
> Heather - Stargirl - shapeshifter, especially into a silver blob  
> Tegan Jovanka - the Mara - shifts into a dragon, triggered by negative emotions  
> Vislor Turlough - controls fire, but cannot create it  
> Nyssa - telekinesis/telepathy  
> Jack Harkness - the Face - preternaturally attractive, sonic blaster  
> Rose Tyler - Bad Wolf - reality bending, gymnastics  
> Liz Shaw - flight & invisibility  
> Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart - none  
> Sarah Jane Smith - teleporting via tearing holes in reality, limited to line of sight  
> the Moment - able to create forcefield bubbles  
> Susan Foreman - the Unearthly Child - telepathy/telekinesis  
> Amy Pond - Legs - able to stretch personal dimensions  
> Rory Williams - Centurion - increased strength and durability


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we meet most of the rest of the Doctors and Companions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter, like the last one, will flip back and forth between John and Clara conversing and between Doctors having adventures.

“In some realities, we were partners,” Clara hedges. “But everyone knows his eyes are on the Ponds.”

“And your eyes?”

“Not there,” she jests as an uncannily festooned Doctor walks by, saving her from a moment of honesty.

“Another call, Doctor?” He twirls his umbrella. “Miss Brown and I should be able to handle this disturbance to good order, eh, Peri?” Peri rolls her eyes.

“What a pompous git,” Clara’s Doctor mutters loudly.

***

“You know, Peri, I think there is something strange going on. There are some unusual energy signatures in this area--even by Ice Warrior standards.” The Sixth Doctor sniffs appreciatively at the air.

“Ice Warriors?”

“Indeed: an ancient race of reptilian Martians. Incredible military discipline and ability. Extremely potent suits of scaled metal armor.”

“I think I see what you mean, Doctor,” Peri observes dryly as they are surrounded. “Any tips?”

“They’re best handled with the utmost in respect, diplomacy, and tact, Peri. The slightest insult to their carefully honed senses of honor would prove fatal.”

She looks at him and blinks slowly, then raises her hands and turns to the Ice Warriors. “We surrender.”

***

“Good day for reptiles,” Clara notes as another John Smith heads off with a report of Silurians.

“Good day for a lot of things,” John replies, tapping his temple. “I’ve been busy.” He eyes her up. “You enjoy that, don’t you.” 

It isn’t a question but she answers it anyway. “Yes. I like fighting evil, I like saving people...I love the thrill.” I like being with _you,_ she thinks. 

“Why didn’t you go with the young one, when he asked?”

“You don’t know?” You look at me and you don’t see me, she thinks, and she tries not to sob. 

***

“Doctor, thank goodness you’re here.” The young mayor wipes sweat from her brow. “The protest is about to boil over.”

“Silurians on one side and humans on the other.” Leela draws her knife. “Worthy adversaries.”

“I’d prefer to end this without bloodshed,” Ashildr corrects her. Leela snarls but sheathes the weapon. “Plan?” she asks the Fourth Doctor.

“I expect I’ll go out and make a fool of myself.”

“Affirmative,” K-9 beeps.

“Thank you, K-9.”

Unfortunately, the Doctor was quite correct.

“This attempt to negotiate is an insult!” hisses the Silurian organizer.

“You’re a disgrace to humanity,” the human leader retorts.

“Silence!” Leela bellows, burying her knife in the table with her super-strength. This is going nowhere fast.

***

“We were close, weren’t we?” Clara’s Doctor half-remembers, half-intuits.

“Does it need saying?”

“Yes, yes it does,” another Doctor (the Tenth) throws in his two cents. “Sorry, don’t mind me. Just butting in. Ta!”

***

Yet another TARDIS materializes, this one inside a baroque black fortress. The Tenth Doctor pulls his sonic screwdriver from his pinstriped suit and scans the basaltic rock. “The Black Guardian’s been mucking about with time...and I suspect he isn’t the only one.”

“Good thing you’ve got us with you,” Martha says, elbowing him. 

“Mind if I borrow your powers, then?” asks Donna, better known as Supertemp for her ability to borrow another’s superpowers for a short stretch of time. In this case, the ability to slow time for the people around her, the signature of Dr. Jones, the Woman Who Walks. 

“You two scout ahead,” the Doctor says, distracted. He sniffs the air and moves off. Behind him, a shadow flickers toward the TARDIS. But he moves off, not seeing it.

“Doctor! There you are. I’ve already met your friends, as you can see.” 

The Doctor’s eyes narrow as he takes in the sight of Martha and Donna, frozen stock-still. “What have you done to them,” he asks, tone frosty.

“Oh, it was easy enough to trap two temporal anomalies in their own little time loops.” The Black Guardian beams. “And shall I do the same to your funny old box, Doctor?” His grin brightens as he chases the Doctor further into his fortress

***

“In that case…” Clara takes a deep breath to steel herself. “People like us, we should tell each other things.”

Before she can say anything further, yet another John Smith comes scurrying by, this one in shabby clothes. “Doctor! Are we still on for tonight’s jam session? Assuming Jamie, Victoria, and I can handle a distress call from a mall, eh?” Clara’s Doctor grins in affirmation.

“Jam session?” Clara asks, amused. “And what do you play?”

“I’ll have you know, I am a superlative guitarist,” he boasts, immediately flouncing off like the world’s most indignant penguin. 

“John?” she laughs, “where are you going?”

By the time she catches him up, he already has the guitar out and tuned. She sits and watches him, hoping to at least coax his ego out into remembering her. “What’s it called?” she asks when he’s finished.

“I think…” He frets with a fret. “I think it’s called Clara.”

***

“It’s a good thing they’ve evacuated the shopping cent--” the voice of the young woman known to the public as Shriek suddenly cuts out.

Victoria? The Second Doctor mouths. His face crinkles with concern.

I’m fine, she mouths back. 

But, he thinks, neither her powers nor Jamie’s (the Highlander’s gift is playing destructive notes on his pipes) will work until they can shut down this acoustic disruptor. 

Jamie seems to reach the same conclusion, and tucks his bagpipes away. He catches the Doctor’s eye, then gestures to the sonic screwdriver.

Sonic, the Doctor reminds him, just as the store mannequins come to life. Autons, he realizes. But an acoustic disruptor isn’t really in their wheelhouse. And yet, he thinks as they raise their hands in surrender, a device capable of shutting down their entire group.

***

“That’s awfully romantic of you,” Clara offers, trying to feel him out. Unfortunately he stands, slinging his guitar behind him. 

She follows him with her eyes as he wanders around the rec room, stopping by a chess game in progress. “I don’t like to play chess. Not this version of me.” He looks back at her. “Could play, if you liked. Or there’s cards. Backgammon,” he offers nervously.

“I think we’re done playing games, Doctor.”

“Something to eat, then? Coffee? Chips? Chips and coffee?” He is already heading back toward the cafeteria, atwitch with nervousness. He brushes another Scottish John Smith, this one on his way out.

“Tea, maybe.” Clara shakes her head in sorrow as she follows him.

***

“In one sense, we’re very lucky, Ace,” the Seventh Doctor says as she shines a torch ahead of them. 

“That’s good, since we’re a mile from sunshine, looking for monsters.” 

“This part of the Underground is abandoned. Not even a Silurian colony. That way we don’t have to worry about innocent bystanders.”

“Yeah, and on the other hand if we die nobody’ll ever find us.” Sparks of kinetic energy crackle off her fingertips. 

“Now, now, it’s gloomy enough down here,” the Doctor chastises her, opening his umbrella against the dripping tunnel. 

“Professor? You don’t think we’re being lured into a trap, do you?”

“Positive. The only question is whether the trap is what’s down here...or something else.” Ace scowls. “Ah, the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel,” the Doctor says, ignoring his companion’s unhappiness.

“Out of the tunnel and into the cave,” Ace mutters. “You’d better take the torch, Professor,” she says, drawing the baseball bat which, when charged with kinetic energy, is her weapon of choice. Of course, just flinging the odd ball of the stuff tends to make a nice explosion. Not, she thinks, that an explosion would be a good idea down here, what with the state of the masonry. Probably haven’t been worked on since Victoria’s time.

The light flickers off a pair of large rounded shapes. “Yeti!” the Doctor hisses. “See if you can keep them busy while I dislodge the control spheres.”

“Sure thing,” Ace says through gritted teeth, bat scorching the robot’s artificial fur. 

“Hello, Doctor,” hisses the Great Intelligence from the shadows.

“Ah. Yeti _and_ Whispermen,” the Doctor notes as the latter grab his arms in a lock. “Terribly sorry, Ace.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Running list of characters, codenames (if any), and superpowers:
> 
> John Smith - the Doctor - innate intelligence, technology  
> Clara Oswald - the Impossible Girl - can divide into many copies  
> Bill Potts - the Pilot - can control any vehicle instinctively  
> Heather - Stargirl - shapeshifter, especially into a silver blob  
> Tegan Jovanka - the Mara - shifts into a dragon, triggered by negative emotions  
> Vislor Turlough - controls fire, but cannot create it  
> Nyssa - telekinesis/telepathy  
> Jack Harkness - the Face - preternaturally attractive, sonic blaster  
> Rose Tyler - Bad Wolf - reality bending, gymnastics  
> Liz Shaw - flight & invisibility  
> Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart - none  
> Sarah Jane Smith - teleporting via tearing holes in reality, limited to line of sight  
> the Moment - able to create forcefield bubbles  
> Susan Foreman - the Unearthly Child - telepathy/telekinesis  
> Amy Pond - Legs - able to stretch personal dimensions  
> Rory Williams - Centurion - increased strength and durability  
> Peri Brown - plant control & growth  
> Leela - heightened strength, reflexes, fighting ability  
> Martha Jones - the Woman Who Walks - able to slow time for people around her as long as she moves as a walk  
> Donna Noble - Supertemp - can borrow superpowers temporarily  
> Victoria Waterfield - Shriek - destructive screaming  
> Jamie McCrimmon - the Highlander - destructive bagpiping  
> Dorothy McShane - Ace - controls kinetic energy


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the plot takes a turn and some old enemies and new friends make their appearance at last.

“Tea’s gone cold,” Clara notes as they return to the cafeteria. “Put on a fresh pot, would you? Without turning it into a robot badger this time, if you please.”

John is about to complain when the little voice in his head catches his ear. “Looks like it’s our turn again.” 

“Who’ll look after the lab?” Clara voices her concern.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got everything under control,” the Eighth Doctor assures them. “Say, is that a hot kettle on? Splendid.” He rubs his hands. “You go have fun. I’ll find biscuits.”

***

“Have fun, you lot,” Bill says, closing the TARDIS door behind them. Sadly, her unique skills do not extend to changing the ship’s external appearance--she might prefer something a bit more flashy than an old blue box. “I’ll just be here, catching up on my reading.” She has comfortably settled in with Sappho, when something catches her eye on the scanner: a funny-looking man with a beard and a limp. “Hey, uh, what’re you doing? Not that it’s any of my business and all. Just, y’know, you might get shot over that way.” She rolls her eyes. “Bloody Sontarans, right? Never mind.”

“Ah, perhaps I could shelter in your charming little box?” The daft man lumbers a bit closer. “Surprisingly roomy, is it not?”

“Uh, that’s probably not the best idea, either…” She hesitates in the doorway. “Some weird stuff back in there.” Her attention is drawn momentarily back--just enough to see the strange fellow’s limp vanish in the corner of her eye. There is something hard pressing against her side but he doesn’t look threatening. Instead there is the click of a trigger and a burst of pain. Then a second one for good measure.

“Sorry about that,” the Master tells her, pulling off his mask. “But I’ll just be a minute.” She can just barely see him doing something to the controls--get your hands off my ship!--if she strains, which is really uncomfortable given that she’s bleeding out on the floor. Ooh, oww, that is going to scar, and she’s getting properly woozy now...

***

“Charley! Daleks?”

“And just the two of us left at the labs.” She peers about as though expecting a shadow to jump to life. (Best not to ask about the Vashta Nerada.) Rare enough that the two of them had a moment to themselves. _Not_ that she minded finally having one.

“They’ll be fine left alone until we can sort a few Daleks out,” he assures her. “I turned the kettle off.”

She laughs. “Well, in that case, lead on, my dear Doctor.”

A few minutes later, Charley had cause to regret her words. “A _few_ Daleks, Doctor?” 

“Not my fault they called for reinforcements!” he shouts. “And...does something seem strange to you? Like they aren’t terribly concerned about killing us?”

“Not usually cause for complaint, but I see what you mean. But...why?”

***

“Ladies first,” Missy insists. After her trail a wizened husk of a man, two near-doppelgangers in dark goatees and dark suits, a silver-haired man in a lab coat, a man with short hair and an elaborate robe, and a blond fellow in a tailored suit.

“The Masters,” intones the eldest, “have arrived.”

The youngest cackles. “And there’s nobody to stop us!” he adds as they near the rift. 

There is a ‘pop’ just as they walk into earshot, not that any of them notice. But when they enter the central chamber, there is a woman rubbing her eyes. “Oh, brilliant!” She waves. “The Masters, I assume?” The robed Master nods. “Is this the part where you explain your ridiculous plan, then?” She beams. “I always liked that bit.” She waves with her fingers as if to say “go on, then.”

The Masters confer, finding the strange woman’s speech offputting. “A certain amount of monologuing is traditional,” the white-haired Master allows. “You see, we have tried to dominate this planet of yours only to be thwarted by that most miserable of men: the Doctor.”

“Always gallivanting about in his TARDIS,” the man in the suit adds. “So we decided: why not banish the Doctors and the TARDISes back to the void?”

“We’ve been skulking about placing beacons inside the TARDISes while the Doctors are...otherwise occupied.” The shriveled Master giggles horribly.

“As long as those devices work and our friends of circumstance can keep them busy, we can banish all of the Doctors and their friends and their silly blue boxes back through the rift,” says one of the dark-haired men.

“And we can rule this world to our hearts’ content!” the other finishes his thought.

“Unless,” the woman at the center of the room says, “someone stops you.”

“We’ve stopped the Doctor. We’re not getting shut down by one of his companions,” Missy fumes. “Kill her!”

“Ahem,” the other woman clears her throat. “Before you try anything that you’ll come to regret, I suggest you take a closer look at who you’re dealing with. I’ve seen cities burn and storms rage. I’ve stopped your plans more times than I care to count. I’m your oldest friend and your worst enemy. I’ve always been a little bit faster, a little bit smarter, a little bit braver, a little bit better. I’m the Doctor. But _not,_ perhaps, the one you were expecting.”

“Shit,” says the ruined man. The Doctor grins, a playful, deadly thing. The Masters run.

No sooner have the Masters fled the scene than a head of blonde curls pokes into the room. “Hello, sweetie!” She blows Jane Smith a kiss. “Yourself has gotten himself into ever so much trouble.” 

“Time to set things right, then?” the Thirteenth Doctor asks. River nods mischievously. “Give us a kiss for luck?”

“Darling, I’d give you a kiss for any reason.”

***

Another police box winks into existence beside the First Doctor’s. “Righto,” Jane pauses to catch River’s disapproving nod. (Not righto? She mouths. Not righto, River mouths back.) “What seems to be the problem?”

“Zygons,” the Doctor tells them. “They had taken hostages in that building and now they’ve disguised themselves as some of the hostages.”

“Except I can’t tell which ones are which,” Susan explains. 

“I don’t want to point out the obvious, but who says that all of them aren’t Zygons?” the Thirteenth Doctor points out.

“That means..!” The First Doctor gasps as Kingdom begins radioing her men to secure the ‘hostages’ and search the building for the real hostages. “My word, how diabolical.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” Kingdom confirms. “There was a bomb rigged to blow in a few minutes.” 

“Seems we’ve arrived in the nick of time,” River understates. “Now, time to see what sort of trouble the rest of you have gotten into.”

“The rest of me?” the First Doctor asks.

“The Master has been trying to keep all of you split up and away from the labs. We think we scared them off before they could complete their plan...but I’d make sure your TARDIS hasn’t been tampered with before you leave. Sexy has the coordinates of the others.” The Thirteenth Doctor explains. “Spread the word and we’ll be done for tea.” She looks over at River. “Or, you know, other pursuits.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, Bill will be just fine.
> 
> Minor pairings include Eighth Doctor/Tea.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clara and her Doctor confront the Sontarans and get to know each other while the other Doctors begin the process of rescuing themselves.

The Twelfth John Smith, meanwhile, follows Clara through a residential neighborhood savaged by the Sontarans. He’s clearly known her for a while now, that much is obvious. What surprises him is how quickly he’s falling back in love with her. Now, he thinks, how to impress her?...

***

“Did I tell you about the time I--”

“Yes,” Peri says dryly. 

“Cards?”

“No.”

“Solitaire, then.” The Sixth Doctor shrugs and shuffles his deck. 

He’s halfway through dealing out the cards when the cell door opens to reveal two Ice Warriors and two blonde women. “Don’t mind us,” River says. “Just negotiating for your release.” 

“And not a moment too soon,” Jane says. “We need your help. And fast.”

***

And John knows he needs to impress Clara. Because, damnit, she impresses him. Just from what he’s seen so far, she’s fearless, witty, caring. And that leaves out the way she makes his heart flutter, and the fact that she’s young and attractive, and the fact that she’s a professional in her own right. Which means that, with himself being old, ugly, and crotchety, he’s going to have to work even harder to deserve her. If only he could silence that voice…

***

“You can’t stop me, Doctor!” Rassilon shouts. “The process has already begun! I shall grind the gears of time to a halt! The End of Time is upon--”

“Hush, you,” the Ninth Doctor growls, clocking Rassilon over the head and leaving him quite unconscious. 

“Well?” Jack asks.

“Well, what? How’s Rose?”

Jack didn’t argue with the Doctor’s sense of priorities. “She’s fine. What about the rest of us?” 

“Not good,” the Doctor admits, just as another TARDIS wheezes in.

“You appear to be in a sticky situation,” the First Doctor opines.

“Stupid bloody Rassilon,” the Ninth Doctor mutters. [“Language, Grandfather!”] “He’s going to stop everything.”

“Unless we can stop him,” Rose groans.

“Can you..?” She shakes her head to Jack’s question. “Don’t suppose we could just ride it out in the TARDIS?”

“The TARDIS!” Both Doctors shout in unison and immediately start yammering back and forth about feedback loops and temporal leakage, stopping only briefly to level a finger at Jack as he cozies up to Susan. “No!”

“Can you blame a fella for wanting to help?” Jack complains. “I mean, if the problem is time running out, maybe we should just make time?” He winks at Susan who blushes but mouths “later” at him. 

“If you want to help, young man, you can give me a hand with these cables,” the First Doctor chides. 

***

“Strange of the Sontarans to be going after a residential neighborhood,” John remarks and regrets it, but presses on. “Nothing of value here.”

“Everything of value if you lived here,” Clara remarks sadly. Heather has gone to scout ahead, leaving them more or less alone. “But I know what you mean. Usually they’re after some kind of military or cloning technology.” Frustrated, she kicks the smouldering remains of a child’s bicycle.

His mind skips a track: does Clara want children? Does she _have_ children? Do _they_ have children? They wouldn’t dare, would they? With him so old--why, he’d have a foot in the grave before they were out of short pants. Maybe a younger version of him would oblige her if she desired; certainly he knew he couldn’t refuse--

“Shh,” Clara whispers. “D’you hear that?”

***

Flashes of light cut through the smoke on the battlefield. The Third Doctor tenses for action. “Stay ready, Brigadier. If they’re coming…”

“Hello, dad.” Kate Stewart grins. “Sergeant Benton, give them a go with the gold rounds.”

“Kate? But you’re--”

“From the future.” 

“Hello!” The Thirteenth Doctor points to the blue box behind her. “Also travels in time,” she explains. “Which is good, given what we’ve got ahead of us.”

***

John scans the burned-out house with his sonic screwdriver. “One life sign,” he whispers. “Not Sontaran, but the right height.”

“Hello?” Clara calls. “We’re here to help. Promise. We’re not scary potato-men!” That draws an unmistakable laugh, soggy and startled. “What’s your name, love?” Clara asks. 

“Chenda,” the girl says. “You...speak Khmer?”

“We’re magic,” Clara not-explains.

“We’re not magic!” the Doctor hisses.

“This isn’t the time to explain how a telepathic translation circuit works!”

“Excuse me,” Chenda interrupts with a tug on the Doctor’s sleeve. “But have you seen my mum and dad?” 

There isn’t a notecard for this. There isn’t a good way to tell a child that they’ve just been orphaned. He hesitates long enough to not blurt out ‘Your parents are probably dead’ which is what he’s thinking. Instead he gets down in a crouch until he’s practically at her eye-level and clasps her hands. “Are you scared?” Chenda nods. “Me too.” Mind you, he’s scared of something slightly different. But she doesn’t have to know that. 

“Really?” she asks, wide-eyed. “But you’re superheroes! You don’t get scared.”

“Let me tell you about scared. Your heart is beating so hard, I can feel it through your hands. There's so much blood and oxygen pumping through your brain, it's like rocket fuel. Right now, you could run faster and you can fight harder, you could jump higher than ever in your life. And you're so alert, it's like you can slow down time. What's wrong with scared? Scared is a super power. It's your super power.” He grins and hopes it doesn’t show that he’s forcing it. “And what I need you to do for me is go that way,” he points back the way they’ve already come, “and get to safety. Can you do that?”

She nods, and looks slightly less terrified and rather more determined, and takes off pell-mell for somewhere that isn’t on fire.

“You’re good with kids,” Clara tells him. 

“It’s just adults I can’t stand,” he quips. “Present company excluded.”

“You’re not so bad yourself.” Clara punches him playfully on the arm. “Come on, let’s keep moving.”

***

The War Doctor circles around, back to back with the Moment, eyes flitting from Angel to Angel. He heaves a reluctant sigh. “After every battlefield we’ve survived, it seems a lamentable waste to die here, at the hands of a couple of gargoyles with ideas above their station.” 

“I can buy us a few moments by erecting a barrier around us,” she offers.

“May as well,” he says as they close in, and as he finishes, he hears a sound that sparks his drooping eyelids. 

“The TARDIS,” she observes, her flat diction straining under the combined effort of the three Angels, who have formed an ominous ring around them. Suddenly, poof.

“Awfully cozy in here,” Sarah Jane greets them. “We’d have been sooner, but my Doctor took us to Aberdeen first by mistake. Liz?”

“Everyone hold on,” the scientist cautions them, and as they take hold of her, they vanish from view. As they do, they realize that the Weeping Angels can now all see each other and thus are quantum-locked in place. “And if everyone is quite careful, I can float us up and out of here.”

“And then I can put a bubble around those three,” the Moment interjects. “That should contain them until we can deal with them more permanently.”

“Which is good,” the Third Doctor calls in their general direction, now twenty feet up. “Because we have more pressing items at hand.”

***

Chenda’s hopefully found someone who can look after her by how, John hopes. Even he can recognize that trying to keep a wee brat out of trouble while also stopping a Sontaran invasion is probably a bad life choice. He scans the air around them to distract himself.

“Do you get the sense that it’s a bit too quiet?” Clara asks, just before twenty Sontarans pop out from nowhere.

“You and your big mouth,” the Doctor mutters as they tumble into some rubble that used to be a house. “No, seriously, have you seen the size of your mouth relative to the rest of your head?”

“Really!” Clara shouts back. “Insults? Now?” Something shatters next to her head.

“Will you two _stop flirting_?” Heather pleads.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you recognize it, I don't own it. Also features a bit of Jack Harkness/Susan Foreman flirting, because why not?


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which nearly every Doctor gets out of trouble

“This is rather frustrating,” the Fifth Doctor frets through tight lips. He bops a droid with a cricket bat.

“Any better ideas?” Nyssa asks as a TARDIS materializes among them. 

“Not yet!” the Sixth Doctor cries. “But if we had a moment to cogitate, perhaps?”

“Ahem,” Peri offers as she conjures a tight ring of trees, screening off the droids.

“So, shall we review our resources?” The Fifth Doctor, now able to relax, thinks about his companions’ abilities. “Tegan, if you could ignite those trees, then, Nyssa and Turlough, could you turn it into a ring of flame?”

“An unstoppable inferno!” the Sixth Doctor squawks with glee. “That should reduce the odds against us.” Tegan’s eyes flash and she starts to exhale, setting the trees ablaze.

“Hold it,” Nyssa cautions as the flames spread. “Hold it…”

“And let it fly!” Turlough says, the fire dancing in his eyes. “I hope you’ve all learned a lesson about the value of teamwork,” the Fifth Doctor lectures.

“Yes, yes, and now it’s time for us to learn the value of self-reliance.” The Sixth Doctor points to their TARDISes. “The rest of us are in trouble.”

“Maybe if you had learned a few lessons in diplomacy,” Peri interjects _sotto voce_. 

“Perhaps the recriminations could wait,” Nyssa offers politely.

***

“We aren’t flirting,” Clara snaps. Are we?

“Whatever you say,” Heather drones in frustration. “But do let’s get out of this mess.”

“Got it,” Clara says, nodding her head crisply. John blinks as she starts outlining possibilities with a tactical competence that he suspects should neither surprise nor arouse him. And yet, it does. Oh dear. He’s falling in love.

***

“Bloody cold,” Turlough mutters. “Hate the cold.”

“ _You_ could have carried a torch,” Tegan mutters, waving the burning brand at him. Turlough scowls and turns a bit of lichen into ash.

“You do seem to get into scrapes in the oddest places, Doctor,” Nyssa admits.

“Quiet, please, all of you,” the Fifth Doctor says with only a bit of urgency. “We’re getting close.”

“Doctor!” the Rani purrs, the firelight glinting off her skin, “there you are. Well, one of you. I’ve already got one on cold storage but I’m always willing to expand my collection.” She smiles, delighted, and claps her hands. “Unfortunately, I haven’t had the chance to fix my cryo-ray yet, so I’ll have to resort to more primitive methods,” she explains as a pair of Ogrons lurk towards them. 

“Primitive is right,” Nyssa notes, her telepathic abilities easily overwhelming the simple aliens and sending them into a slumber. The Rani’s face falls and she flees. 

“Let her go,” the Doctor orders. “Tegan, Turlough, see if you can find, well, me, and thaw me out. Nyssa, give me a hand with this cryo-ray--I have a few ideas of how to put it to use…”

***

“Clara!” the Twelfth Doctor shouts. “I’ve got it.”

“How to deal with these Sontarans?” she hopes.

“No! I remember you!” He kisses her and jumps up with delight...and is immediately shot in the shoulder by a Sontaran.

“No, no, you idiot, why would you do that?..” she prays over him.

“Couldn’t...help...it…” he laughs raggedly. 

“Get back to the TARDIS!” she shouts at Heather, perhaps a bit louder than she needs to.

***

Jamie sits contentedly in their cell, watching his Doctor mumble to himself. He had checked the door and the walls for weaknesses, and, finding none, had sat down to wait for rescue or for the Doctor to come up with a way out. He watches the Doctor, certain that his best friend is moments from a breakthrough.

Seconds later, Jamie hears three things in quick succession: the tail end of an explosion, a lot of shouting, and his Doctor’s voice singing, gruffly, “...take one down, pass it around, twenty-three bottles of beer on the wall.”

“I thought you were thinking out loud so we could get out of this mess!”

“It does help me think,” the Doctor lies.

Before Jamie can express his further disappointment, the door clicks open. The Legs shakes her hand back into shape, the lockpicks in her hand reverting to normal fingers. “Right, you lot, time to get moving.”

***

Bill decides she’s hallucinating. Although with the TARDIS it’s hard to tell sometimes. Maybe she _did_ just crawl through a literal desert. She is sweating, but she feels clammy-cold. Bill’s sure there must be an infirmary around somewhere. The one with the air hockey table in it, yeah? She puts one blood-slick hand out in front of her with effort, feeling her way forward. Water. (hopefully not a puddle of her own blood?) Must mean she’s out of the desert. That’s something.

“There you are,” a soft voice whispers. “I’d say good thing you left a trail, but, oh god! you’re bleeding out.”

“Heather?” Bill puzzles out. “Are you real?”

Heather presses a chaste kiss to Bill’s lips, pale with shock. “Does this feel real? Now...this is going to hurt.”

“Huh?” Bill asks the empty air as Heather melts into quicksilver. Then she screams as every cell in her body reprograms itself.

***

Even with Leela snarling between them, the humans and Silurians are nearly ready to start a fight. “So much for diplomacy, eh, K-9?” the Fourth Doctor asks.

The robot dog’s reply is cut short by the arrival of two TARDISes. “Fighting in the streets?” Jamie asks. “About time for a proper scrap!”

“Ahem,” the Second Doctor interjects.

“Or mebbe we could use the quiet-making and the cold-making machines,” Jamie admits reluctantly. 

They lug the devices out to where Leela is waiting. “About time,” she mutters. “Fighting to the death is more fun if it’s someone else’s.”

“Right, here we go,” the Fourth Doctor announces. The cryo-ray, aimed at the feet of the protesters, goes a long way toward subduing them, especially the Silurians. And once they can’t hear each other--or themselves--charging each other through a growing crowd of dangerous-looking people looks far less appetizing.

Oh thank goodness, Victoria mouths as the protesters start to disperse. 

***

“Okay,” Bill says. “I’m definitely dreaming now.” She laughs nervously. “Because I thought for a minute we did this weird soul-bonding thing and you fixed me up and now we each have both of our superpowers.” Bill looks down at her hand, which is more silvery and amorphous than the last time she checked. “Uh, Heather…?”

“Tired,” she mumbles, and curls more closely around Bill. 

“Okay, I can see how repairing my internal bleeding could take it out of you,” Bill says with a nod, still mostly distracted by her hand. She focuses, and it slowly turns from a silver mitteny blob into a normal warm brown hand. Okay, this will take some getting used to, she thinks. “Naptime?” Heather nods, drooling on her shoulder. “Uh, quick question? Where are the others?”

Heather yawns, and melts into a puddle, dripping down into the TARDIS’s navigational circuits. The ship dematerializes and rematerializes. “Out there somewhere,” Heather says, once again flumped in a ball. “Get the door, yeah?” 

“You’re lucky you’re cute when you’re tired,” Bill laughs, and stands to open the door. “And when you’re heroic.” Heather’s mouth twitches into a smile.

***

“You can’t hide from me, Doctor!” the Black Guardian calls as he stalks through his fortress.

The Tenth Doctor’s mind races. He knows his foe is right, but there isn’t much to be done about a being of cosmic power. Unless, of course, you happened to be the--

“White Guardian,” the Black Guardian snarls as a blonde woman in a white robe poofs into existence. 

She yawns. “Yes, yes, it is I. I see you have nothing better to do than fool around with a handful of mortals.”

“Nonsense! Why, I was just--”

“What say you we finish our little quarrel, once and for all?” She blows on her fingernails. “I mean, unless you have something more important to attend to.” She folds her hands into the sleeves of her robe. “I do need to clear out my Netflix queue.”

“No!” He coughs. “I mean, no. I look forward to destroying you utterly!”

“Excellent! Now, I know we usually hold back for fear of destroying the universe. But what do you say to holding our fight in the pocket dimension through that portal?” A door of glittering purple light opens and the Black Guardian pours through it like liquid shadow.

“Idiot,” the Thirteenth Doctor mutters and closes the portal behind him. “That should keep him busy for a while.” She collapses onto the floor. “Vortex manipulator. Nasty way to fly but arriving in a TARDIS would have given the game away.” She exhales, blowing a lock of hair out of her face. “Don’t suppose I can trouble you for a lift?”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our heroes wrap up business against the Daleks.

The Twelfth Doctor flutters in and out of consciousness, head cradled in Clara’s lap. “No, no, not here, not now, you hear me? You don’t die with me.”

“Yes...boss,” he whispers through smiling lips as the TARDIS materializes behind them. The Sontarans withdraw, their mission accomplished.

“Everybody aboard,” Bill says, skin with a silvery sheen. “Sorry. It’s, uh, complicated. Still not quite used to it myself.” She concentrates and she resumes her usual appearance. “Explain later, yeah? But for now, sounds like you’ve been busy.” She plugs in new coordinates.

“You’re hurt!” River exclaims and darts forward to help support his weight. She sees Clara’s hesitation. “Don’t worry, I won’t play the jealous wife tonight. After all, you won’t believe who I just met.”

“Awfully generous of you given that he is bleeding,” Clara snorts. “Help me patch him up.” 

***

Their next stop is the London Underground. “So,” Clara says, “the Great Intelligence?”

“He’s psychically projecting his minions onto this plane. Well. Not the Yeti,” River explains; Bill and Heather have stayed back to recover and look after the Doctor. “They’re robots. But he’s still mentally controlling them through silver spheres in their backs.”

“That sounds...needlessly complicated.” 

“Too true. But if you can distract them, I can free the Doctor and Ace.” 

“And then?” Clara asks. But the Whispermen are on them, and she sucks in a deep breath. This was going to take everything she could muster, she realizes, and splits herself into as many copies as she can manage. Her heads spin with the effort, but she blinks away the confusion and starts grappling with the eyeless figures.

Behind Clara, River draws her sonic blaster and fires with pinpoint aim. For all the good it does. She curses as the shadowy forms simply blur momentarily and reform. Not long now before they, too, are overrun.

Then, behind them, whooshing in stereo. “Time to fight fire with fire! Well, I say fire. I mean psychic energy.” The Tenth Doctor beams as Susan, Donna, and Nyssa adopt looks of intense concentration. The Whispermen start to waver in and out of being. Including the ones standing guard over Ace and the Doctor. 

Ace grins. “Back in action,” she practically sings, and starts whaling on a Yeti with her bat.

“Careful, Ace,” the Seventh Doctor cautions her as the other Yeti closes on her. 

“Thanks, Professor,” she says, backing away as blaster fire damages the great beast.

“Don’t mention it,” River says dryly.

“He can’t handle all of us at once!” Martha shouts, leaping into the fray. And, indeed, the Great Intelligence’s minions are waning.

“Great,” the Seventh Doctor trills. “Now, if nobody minds terribly, let’s get out of here!” Clutching his hat to his head, he leads the scampering retreat as Ace collapses the tunnel behind them with a well-placed burst of energy.

***

The Doctors and their companions regroup at TARDIS Labs. “Let’s see,” the Second Doctor mutters. “Is that everyone?” 

“Everyone except number eight.” The Eleventh Doctor’s face sours. “And the Daleks.”

“Daleks.” The other Doctors shudder.

***

“Daleks,” the Eighth Doctor complains. “What an uninspiring way to go. And if the last thing I have to hear is a whiny pepperpot shouting ‘EXTERMINATE,’ I shall be sorely disappointed. ”

“I’m rather more concerned about not dying,” Charley mutters. Not before we resolve this sexual tension, anyway. Well, now or never, she thinks, plucking up her courage. “Doctor, what do you think--” She is interrupted by the sound of thirteen TARDISes warping in not-quite unison. “Do we really sound like that?”

“I expect so,” the Eighth Doctor replies coolly. “Shall we take the fight to the Daleks, my dear Adventuress?” It made her tingle a bit when he said that. Not as though he would ever let on if him tingle the same way. But enough time for that later, she thinks, and calls her powers to her fingertips--the power to reverse the flow of time, imbued in her by her exposure to a fragment of Anti-Time during one of the Doctor’s experiments. She channels it at the nearest Dalek, and its armor un-welds itself, reverts back to raw metal.

Charley grins and scans the battlefield. Susan suspends an upside-down Dalek with her mind while Victoria shatters its casing with a scream. The Brigadier leads a UNIT platoon into the fight while Sarah Jane teleports out of the middle of a crossfire that turns into unfriendly fire for the Daleks. 

Leela uses her immense strength to rip the dome off of a Dalek, while Tegan, in her dragon form, simply batters a group of maniacal wastebaskets into smithereens with swipes of her tail. An almighty shove from Nyssa’s mind sends three spiraling away and cracking their armor; Peri quickly seizes the opportunity and sends thorny vines to tear them apart. 

Ace clubs another Dalek to death while Donna, borrowing her powers, explodes another. Jack and River are firing away with their sonic blasters. Rory drives his sword into the gap by a Dalek’s eyestalk while Amy uses extremely long arms and the power of physics to spin a Dalek round and round to its doom. 

And all through the skirmish are the Doctors, screwdrivers flickering as they disable Dalek weapons and sensors. “Nothing quite so satisfying as handing a whole bunch of Daleks their own backsides, is there?” Clara asks her Doctor as the angry pepperpots retreat. 

“I can think of something,” he replies, and draws her into a kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Running list of characters, codenames (if any), and superpowers:
> 
> John Smith - the Doctor - innate intelligence, technology  
> Clara Oswald - the Impossible Girl - can divide into many copies  
> Bill Potts - the Pilot - can control any vehicle instinctively  
> Heather - Stargirl - shapeshifter, especially into a silver blob  
> Tegan Jovanka - the Mara - shifts into a dragon, triggered by negative emotions  
> Vislor Turlough - controls fire, but cannot create it  
> Nyssa - telekinesis/telepathy  
> Jack Harkness - the Face - preternaturally attractive, sonic blaster  
> Rose Tyler - Bad Wolf - reality bending, gymnastics  
> Liz Shaw - flight & invisibility  
> Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart - none  
> Sarah Jane Smith - teleporting via tearing holes in reality, limited to line of sight  
> the Moment - able to create forcefield bubbles  
> Susan Foreman - the Unearthly Child - telepathy/telekinesis  
> Amy Pond - Legs - able to stretch personal dimensions  
> Rory Williams - Centurion - increased strength and durability  
> Peri Brown - plant control & growth  
> Leela - heightened strength, reflexes, fighting ability  
> Martha Jones - the Woman Who Walks - able to slow time for people around her as long as she moves as a walk  
> Donna Noble - Supertemp - can borrow superpowers temporarily  
> Victoria Waterfield - Shriek - destructive screaming  
> Jamie McCrimmon - the Highlander - destructive bagpiping  
> Dorothy McShane - Ace - controls kinetic energy  
> Charley Pollard - the Adventuress - able to reverse the localized flow of time


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And now for a brief, sexy coda...

“I’m not even apologizing for my danger kink,” Clara says, flopping back onto the bed. 

“Don’t,” John wheezes, thudding down beside her. He sniffs at the air contemplatively. “Doesn’t half reek of sex in here.”

“Can’t imagine,” she teases him. “You bung the sheets in the laundry, I’ll fetch us a post-coital cuppa. Whoo!” She startles as she tries to stand. “Once I can feel my knees. And my hips. And my ankles.” 

Ten minutes later...

Clara pads off to the lab’s kitchen in one of John’s holey jumpers, figuring nobody else will be up at this hour. 

She is wrong.

“Seriously?” she groans at Rose, who is smiling dopily in a leather jacket. “The line for just-fucked midnight tea is three deep? We have two kettles!”

“If you’d come earlier, it’d have been four deep and Jack would have been in without a stitch on,” Rose tells her. Everyone flushes at the memory. The Face is...not shy. 

“So, I guess we have a bit of a danger kink?” Clara asks.

Rose merely laughs in reply as the Eighth Doctor wanders muzzily in, wrapped in a bedsheet. “Any chance of a pot of tea? Promised Charley I’d fetch some.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading--I rather think there may have been an issue with the dates as posted, but here it is, complete.


End file.
